Hands shaking, I toss what’s left of Aurora’s wine goblet into the fire and pour him another, then shove the entire platter of food toward him.
“My thanks.” He inspects a square of cheese and the lines bracketing his lips, like the grooves in a tree trunk, deepen. “You do not eat well here.”
“Apologies.” I don’t even try to keep the sarcasm from my tone.
“It is no matter.” He starts in on the bread, picking out bits of seed and letting them fall. “I have come regarding some recent incidents I find alarming.”
It takes every thread of my self-control not to react. “Incidents?”
“Do not waste my time with lies.” The orb on his staff flares, tingeing the glass amber. My skin prickles, knowing that the orb can also burn crimson. That it can leave smoking, blackened marks on my skin. “Duke Weltross’s death was most suspicious.”
“He was sick.”
“Yes. And others have fallen ill in the palace of late. One of the king’s ministers suddenly went blind. Another could hardly recall his own name. The healing Graces could do nothing to aid them.” Wood creaks as he crosses one leg over the other and I catch the faint scent of his power—dewy grass and sticky-sweet nectar. “It reeks of Vila magic.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He blinks slowly, like a reptile. “Did you know, that when you were first discovered and brought to the Grace Council, I advised the Briar King to kill you?”
I curse myself for the way my shoulders hunch and my head drops, submitting to this creature the way I have a hundred thousand times before.
“He obviously did not heed my advice.” The Etherian selects another bit of cheese and chews it thoughtfully. “Humans are always so fascinated by magic. And yours was a new toy for him to play with.”
Wind rattles down the chimney. Cinders sizzle as they fly free of the hearth and onto the freezing stone floor. Callow cries out and strains against her tether.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Such a demanding half-breed,” he croons, using that tone that has haunted my nightmares for over a decade. “Such anger. It will serve you poorly. Become your undoing, if you are not careful.”
The magic in the Etherian staff whirls in time to the tempest in my ears. Aurora said the source of the Fae lord’s magic was in that staff. How sturdy is the glass protecting it? My power aches to find out.
“I was but a child when the War of the Fae ravaged Etheria and threatened my own. But I know well enough that Vila magic is unpredictable. The power of a half-breed is even more wild and untamed. I told Tarkin that perhaps at first you would only be able to create elixirs—a Dark Grace, as they call you. But one day, your power might truly manifest. And when it did, there was no end to the havoc you could wreak.”
“You’re saying you’re afraid of me?”
Endlewild’s cruel, catlike eyes narrow, his easy grace chipped at the edges. “I am saying that if I find you are more Vila than I first perceived, I will not hesitate to put you down. And not even the Briar King can stop me.”
I don’t grant him a response. Callow rages from her perch.
“It would be a kindness to you,” he goes on. “You do not understand your power. It will consume you, Alyce. And take everything around you down with it.”
My own name shudders through me, colder than any winter wind.
Lord Endlewild rises. “I will be keeping watch. I hope I do not have cause to return. Or”—he pauses at the door, his profile lit up by the magic of his staff—“perhaps I do hope so.”
The door snicks closed behind him, a lingering scent of meadows and rain the only sign that he was ever here.
An all-too-familiar shame scalds my chest, coupled with a wave of fury so strong that I have to dig my fingernails into my flesh to keep from razing this Lair—this house, the entire realm—to rubble. But it’s not just the Fae lord. I hate myself. Hate the fact that I still cower before the Etherian. That I still fear him.
In all my training with Kal, in my time with Aurora, I thought I had shed that weakness. But I’m no better than the child I once was. Huddled in the darkness, just waiting for the next kick to land.
Unable to reenter Lavender House lest the servants see the red limning my eyes, I untether Callow and curl up in a corner by the hearth. Whether through need or by command, I Shift as I did when I was a child, making myself as small and compact as possible. Callow scoots close to me, wedging her body in the warm crook of my neck.